Impossible Things
by Mrs.Monster
Summary: Dawn Summers is driving to South Dakota to spend a year before she starts college with an old friend of Giles's. When her car breaks down, who should happen to come upon her and offer their assistance? Sam and Dean Winchester.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Supernatural or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

**Author's Note:** I started this story ages ago. I'm talking _years_. I was saving it to make into a full-length story, but it's been sitting for so long that I knew I'd never take it anywhere. So I tacked on an ending and made it a one shot. I may add a few more one shots later on, but probably not. Warnings for: implied sexuality, some language, implied three-way and a tiny mention of Wincest.

Drop me a line, if you're so inclined.

**Impossible Things**

**...**

The woman navigating the beat to hell Chevy Desoto was literally moments away from slamming her head against the steering wheel as the car shimmied and shuttered into the seemingly abandoned gas station parking lot. Smoke billowed from under the hood, and Dawn Summers dejectedly put into park for what she was sure would be the last time. She tried to control her breathing as she looked around her; the windows of the station were boarded up and weeds grew rampant amongst the gas pumps. Dawn didn't know what to do. She had no phone, hardly any money and no way of getting help from her friends in California.

It was her fault, really. She should have let Giles put her on a plane to South Dakota, like he'd wanted to. Of course Dawn had had to argue with him; she wanted to _drive, _take a road trip for once in her stupid little life. She couldn't say _boring _little life. Dawn Summers's life had been everything but boring. Giles had been the one to insist that she go and spend a year in South Dakota with his friend Bobby Singer, muttering that it would do her good as she frantically polished the lenses of his glasses. Dawn didn't know who this Bobby was; just that he was connected with the Watcher's Council. Giles had called him a consultant, whatever in the hell that was supposed to mean.

With Buffy gone, off Dawn wasn't sure where, she had been without structure, and structure, according to Giles, was _everything. _Dawn wasn't sure how much structure could be found living in a house on a junk yard with a guy named Bobby Singer, but she'd give it a shot. It was something to do while she figured out what she wanted to major in anyway.

Now, though, she was royally screwed. Dawn had lost her phone a few days before, and she had just over three hundred bucks in her pocket. She supposed that would be enough to get her a bus ticket back to L.A. but first she had to get to a station. Unfortunately there were none to be found in Middle of Nowhere, Utah. Blinking back frustrated tears, Dawn popped the hood, jerked on the door handle and pushed the door open. She slammed it shut again and stomped across the cracked pavement to the trunk, fishing around in the trunk, coming up with an old t-shirt of Spike's. The smell of old booze and God knew what else wafted up from the trunk and Dawn slammed it shut quickly.

If she could get to a pay phone, she could call Spike. He was the least likely to give her shit, and he was in L.A. for the time being, working for _Angel. _Dawn couldn't even think the name without sneering. Pretentious jerk. Spike, though, he would come and get her and they'd laugh about the entire situation all the way back to the Golden State. He was the one who'd given her the ancient car anyway, with a sentimental tear in his eye.

Wrapping the dirty black t-shirt around her hand, Dawn lifted the hood, coughing as smoke poured into her face. The late-July day was sweltering, close to a hundred degrees, she was sure, and Dawn was wearing the bare minimum. She wasn't even aware of the show she was putting on as she bent over under the hood of the Desoto in the barely-there cut off shorts and dark floral tank top.

Sam and Dean Winchester sure as hell noticed, though. Fresh off a job in Nevada, they were barreling down a random road in Utah on their way back to Bobby's place. Sammy was a little worse for the wear after this one, coming out if with a black eye and a dislocated shoulder that Dean had popped back into place. The older Winchester was behind the wheel of the '67 Impala that had been handed down from father to son, windows down, Metallica blasting through the speakers, and in his mind, things weren't too bad just then.

Sammy was the first to notice the girl, messing under the hood of a smoking classic, heart shaped ass in the air. Though Sam wasn't one to point things like this out, Dean caught on to his staring quickly and Sam was fairly certain that the lecherous grin that crossed his older brother's face was illegal in most states.

"Look at that. A lovely young motorist, looks like she's havin' a little car trouble, doesn't it Sammy?" Dean looked across at his baby brother, laughing at the faint pink glow under Sam's skin "I think we'd better stop and offer her some assistance, don't you?"

Sam nearly groaned, already foreseeing the upcoming disaster. Dean was slowing, coasting into the parking lot of the rundown gas station. The girl had heard the grumble of the engine and as Dean put the Impala in park, she lowered the hood of her car and turned to watch them get out of the car.

"Whoa jail-bait," Dean mumbled as he shut his door.

Dawn watched the two men walk toward her, fingers feeling for the outline of the switch blade that she'd found rolling around in the back of the Desoto that was currently in her back pocket. One of the men was built like a bulldog, with short sandy hair and near perfect features. Faded jeans and a olive drab t-shirt that clung to his muscles in a few very right ways. The other looked to be significantly younger than his companion, closer to her own age. He was at least a foot and a half taller than Dawn, hair dark and long enough to curl around his ears.

Her hand curled around the warm metal of the handle of the blade in her pocket.

"Nice car you've got here," the short one said, running a hand over the curved hood of the Desoto.

"Thanks. It belonged to a friend of mine." Dawn had backed up far enough to reach the handle of her car.

"I'm sorry, is your friend dead?" the tall one asked.

"In a manner of speaking."

**...**

After a few minutes of conversation, an exchange of names, and calling herself crazy at least half a dozen times, Dawn was climbing into the back of Sam and Dean's car with her bags. The brothers settled in their seats and Dean handed Dawn a cell phone so that she could call Spike. At this time of day she knew she'd wake him up, but this was an emergency situation.

"_Hello_?" Spike growled into the phone.

"Spike? It's Dawn. I, um, kind of need you to come to Utah and get me."

After a beat of silence, Spike said, "_What did you do to my car?_" His voice was a low mix of gravel and smoke.

"I did nothing! It was just her time. It was a natural death that... involved lots of smoke."

"_You didn't keep an eye on the coolant, like I told you to, did you?_"

"Cool-what?"

Spike sighed loudly. "_Alright. Where are you?_"

"Hang on a sec." Dawn took the phone away from her ear, put it on speaker and scooted across the back and leaned over the front seat. "Hey, guys, where are we headed?"

"Nearest hotel," Dean answered. "Were going to-" he was cut off by an angry voice coming tinny from the cell phone.

"_You're going to what, exactly?! Niblet, are you hitching_? _If you're hitching... that's it. When I find you I am biting you. Do you hear me, Bit? I am biting you! Deader than dirt, that's your future-" _

Dawn rolled her eyes and took Spike off speaker phone. "I'll call you when we get there, okay? Calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack, or, well... never mind. I'll just call you when they _drop me off_." She snapped the phone shut and handed it back up front.

Sam turned and looked over the seat at Dawn. "Did that guy just threaten to bite you?"

"And why does he call you, what was it? _Niblet_?"

"Long story. He threatens to bite me all the time, but he never actually does."

"Al-right."

The girl in the back of the car was pretty. _Very _pretty, Dean thought. She was tall for a girl, taller than he was, and her light brown hair was long, reaching to the middle of her back even pulled into a tail. Her eyes were light blue, and she had a small smattering of freckles over her slightly up-turned nose.

"So, jail-bait, how do you know the Brit?" Dean asked.

"What did you call me?"

"He probably just can't remember your name," Sam muttered. "Don't worry about it. He called me Danny for an entire month once when he was eight."

Dawn gave the back of Dean's head a half-hearted glare. "He's my sister's ex. Kind of. It's complicated."

"His name is Spike? Like, that's his real name?" Dean asked.

"Nick-name. His real name is William. We got really close one summer while my sister was... gone. He's my best friend."

"Where are you from?" Dean glanced at her over the seat.

Sammy was quiet in the passengers seat, studying his suddenly very interesting jean-clad knees.

"L.A. We lived in Sunnydale, California up until a few years ago."

"Isn't that place a crater now?"

"Yep. Where are you guys from?"

Dean shared a look with Sam before answering vaguely. "The Midwest."

Dawn pulled her feet up on the seat until she noticed the look Dean was giving her in the rearview mirror. As she dropped them back down to the floorboards, she looked around all of the stuff piled in the backseat. Fast-food bags stuffed with empty wrappers, half-heartedly folded clothes spilling out of two duffle bags were jammed in the back next to her, a toothbrush and a half-empty tube of toothpaste in the back window. Hairbrushes, combs, hair gel that she assumed belonged to Dean, deodorant, cologne- also Dean's. It looked like these guys had been on the road a while.

"What do you guys do? Are you students, or..." Dawn trailed off.

"We're hunters," Sam offered from the front. At Dean's look he hastened to add, "Of deer. We hunt deer. You know, wild animals. Bear."

"Ok-ay."

After a little while of awkward silence, they finally came upon a roadside motel. As soon as they came to a stop, Dawn hopped out of the back and grabbed her three small bags.

"Well, thanks for the ride. Um, could I just use your phone again to call Spike? Let him know that you two didn't hack me up into little pieces and scatter me along the road?"

Again Dean handed her the phone and he and Sam listened to this side of the conversation.

"Hey. Yeah, I made it fine. We're at the _Sunshine Motel_... Well I don't know who in the hell named it... _Yes, _I'm fine... of course they didn't! Yeah, I'll see you when you get here." Dawn snapped the phone shut and handed it back to Dean.

"You good?" he asked, taking the silver phone.

"Yeah. He said that it'll take him a few days to get here, but he's heading out soon. Thank-"

"Actually," Dean cut across her. He wasn't looking at her, though, he was looking across the seat to his brother. "We've been driving for a while. We could use a bit of downtime, couldn't we Sammy?"

Sam flustered and flailed a little, wanting to be gone with the pretty girl and her mile-long legs in their rearview. He also wanted to stay. Finally he settled with a shrug. Dean grinned over his shoulder at Dawn.

"We'll get a room and wait with you until your... Spike gets here."

"Acceptable. Creepy, but acceptable."

Dawn threw her stuff into the back next to Sam and Dean's and lead the way into the office. They got adjacent rooms and climbed back into the car, driving around to the back of the building, parking in front of rooms 32 and 33. Dawn unlocked her room and waved to the brothers as she toted her bags into the cheap motel room.

After a quick shower, Dawn was knocking on their door, ready to suggest they grab dinner together. Dean answered, and Dawn caught Sam emerging from the bathroom, a small white towel wrapped around his waist. Her mind went blank and she was pretty sure her eyes crossed as she tried to take in all of the tanned skin and muscled plaines of Sam's chest.

Sam flailed back into the bathroom with an unmanly shriek, attempting to cover the exposed skin that Dawn was hungrily ogling through the door. He slammed the bathroom door so hard that the faux oak splintered at the handle, and Dean stared after his addled brother for a moment before turning back to Dawn.

"I was just... uh," she shook her head like she was trying to rattle something back into place. "Just... _wondering _if you guys wanted to grab dinner."

"Sure, I could eat. Sammy, you hungry?" Dean yelled over his shoulder toward the bathroom.

Extraordinarily high-pitched, Sam answered, "_Yeah._"

"Great!" Dawn slipped around Dean and into the room, sitting on the nearest bed with a bounce. "I'm starving. The last thing I had were those weird orange gas station peanut butter crackers and that was yesterday afternoon. I'm really craving something fried. Preferably covered in cheese and bacon."

"Girl after my own heart," Dean said, sitting on the other bed, pulling his boots on over bare feet. Laundry wasn't high on the priority list in the face of demons and ghosts. "How old are you anyway, jail-bait?"

"I am not jail-bait," Dawn said, narrowing her eyes. "and I am nineteen, thank you very much."

"Barely legal." Dean nodded in appreciation. "You hear that Sam?" Dean asked to the still-closed bathroom door. "Jail-bait's legal."

Sam jerked the door open, pulling it off the hinges completely. "_Dean. _Not cool."

"Bitch," Dean said, not looking up from where he was lacing his boots.

"Jerk," Sam gave back.

"Ass!" Dean and Sam both paused and looked over at Dawn, still sitting on Sam's bed. She shrugged, bouncing off the mattress and opening the door. "Now hurry up. Starving over here."

…

Open for business since 1954, the Sunshine Diner had fed the guests of it's name-sake hotel with a full Health Inspector Reluctantly Approved menu for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dean, Dawn and Sam found a booth toward the back and both brothers sat on the same side, their backs toward the wall.

"God, I am so hungry I could eat a Fyral de-" Dawn stopped abruptly, eyes wide sending Sam and Dean a panicked look. "A Fyral elephant. That's what I was going to say. They're from Africa." She gulped ice water and looked away, missing the look that passed between the Winchester's.

Dawn drained half her glass, choked briefly on a piece of ice as she searched for a topic of conversation. She wasn't used to hanging around people who weren't well-versed in the supernatural world. Somehow Dawn didn't think her old "was once a mystical ball of energy" ice breaker would go over well here.

"I thought deer season was in fall, or something." At their blank looks, Dawn elaborated. "You know, for your... hunting."

"_Oh_, well yeah. But it's... rabbit season," Sam told her.

"I didn't know that hunting was an actual job. I always thought it was more of a hobby."

"We're enthusiasts," Dean explained. "We sell the... uh, the fur?"

"Are you asking me, or telling me?"

They were saved from attempting to explain further by the waitress delivering their food. Dawn and Dean had both ordered bacon cheeseburgers and fries, while Sam had gone with the tofu burger and a garden salad. Dawn was thoroughly distracted by her food and ate without pause, completely forgetting the fake-memories of her mother trying to teach her manners.

"Are you starting college in the fall?" Sam asked her, washing down a bite of his tofu burger.

Dawn shook her head. "Next fall. I'm supposed to be spending a year with this friend of my.. of my... well of Giles's. Giles's is kind of like my dad. That's where I was headed when I broke down, you know, taking a year, deciding what I want to major in."

"You a brainiac?" Dean asked. "Like Sammy here? He went to Stanford."

"Didn't finish, though," Sam added.

"I don't know about _brainiac_. I'm good with languages, but terrible at math. So wait... Sam, you dropped out of Stanford to hunt wild animals?"

"It was complicated," Sam told her before stuffing his mouth full of salad to avoid answering anymore questions. Thinking about Stanford made Sam uncomfortable; he didn't like thinking about what could have been, with Jess, with everything. It hadn't happened, and he moved on.

By the time they returned to the hotel, night had fallen and it had cooled considerably. Dawn said goodnight to Sam and Dean and retreated to her room, leaning back against the door after she'd closed it. She had to be more careful, she'd nearly slipped up about a Fyral demon at dinner, and who knew what would come out of her mouth next. Dawn liked the Winchester brothers, and the last thing she wanted was to scare them away with talk of demons and vampires.

Dawn changed into an old Sunnydale High t-shirt and sleep shorts and used the phone in the room to call Spike, reiterating the fact that she was still alive and not working through the digestive system of some cannibalistic road-side strangers. If she conveniently left out the fact that Dean and Sam had stayed behind at the hotel, it was only to save Spike further worry. He was worse than Buffy and Giles combined most of the time. After hanging up, she wriggled under the covers, finding them surprisingly clean and comfortable.

Dawn fell asleep with old reruns of _The Andy Griffith Show _running in the background.

**...**

"She's pretty hot," Dean said, flopping back on his bed fully clothed.

"Who?"

Dean shot Sam an impatient look. "Who do you think? Jail-bait."

"Dawn? Yeah, I guess she is." Sam was standing in the bathroom, digging his toothbrush from its plastic bag, squeezing a line of toothpaste onto the bristles. The broken door leaned sideways against the jamb.

"You into her?"

Sam spit toothpaste foam all over the bathroom mirror.

"What is _with _you, man? Since we met this chick you've been more of a spaz than usual."

He spat into the sink, rinsed and then Sam turned and leaned back against the bathroom counter, arms crossed over his t-shirt clad chest. "I don't know, Dean. There hasn't been anyone since Jess-"

"You need to get laid, little brother. And there is a perky young woman right next door that-"

"_Dean!_"

"Alright, alright!"

**...**

Indecently early the next morning Dawn was woken by a call from Spike, informing her that he was nearly halfway there, but had stopped for the day at a motel.

"Admit it, you're just checking on me again."

The dry burning sound of Spike taking a drag off a cigarette could be heard down the line before he answered with a smokey, "_Yeah, and_?"

"And nothing. Your concern is endearing."

Spike just grunted.

"Did you tell anyone before you left? That you were coming to get me, I mean?"

"_No, Bit. I didn't say anything_."

Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. She could put off the embarrassment and the lectures for a little while longer, at least. Willow wouldn't be too bad, and Giles would get over it quickly. Xander was the one who would harp on about the danger until the topic was old and beaten into the ground. Dawn was just happy that she wouldn't have to stay in L.A. very long; she'd hitch back with Spike and then be on a plane for South Dakota hopefully the next day.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, O Dead One."

Spike hung up grumbling something about _blood_ _bath_ and _show her. _

Dawn pulled the covers over her head, trying to ward off the artificial cold of the room.

**...**

The second night at the motel, it was just after ten and Dean and Sam were zoned out on a cheesy horror flick when there was a knock on the door. Dean hauled himself off his bed and pulled it open to find Dawn on the other side, a deck of cellophane-wrapped cards in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other.

"I'm bored," was all she said before she flounced around him and into the room, sitting on Sam's bed with a bounce. Sam jumped a little, but Dawn's tiny weight not enough to jostle him on the bed.

"Where did you get that stuff?" Dean asked, closing and locking the door.

Dawn shrugged. "I walked to that gas station a little way down the road."

"It's almost a mile away," Sam said incredulously.

"Eh, I said I was bored."

"Coulda given you a ride," Dean said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "That was dangerous."

"I know how to take care of myself, _thanks_. Do you think I would have hitched a ride with two random men if I couldn't?" Dawn raised an eyebrow in his direction, dumping the glass bottle onto the bed, unwrapping the deck of cards.

"How did you buy booze anyway?"

"Not really an obstacle. Show enough cleavage, smile big enough, they don't worry about I.D."

Sam scowled. Dean noticed and smirked at him.

"So!" Dawn dropped the cellophane to the floor, flipped the top on the red and white box. "Who wants to show me how to play poker?"

Dean perked up, and Sam shot him a narrow look.

"_Not_ strip poker."

He wilted, but moved to the small table by the window anyway. Sam snatched the bottle of whiskey off his bed and sat next to his brother. Dawn slapped the deck of cards in the center of the table and pulled the blue recliner across the room and up to the edge.

Dean took a swig from the bottle, passed it to Sam, voice just a little rougher and said, "What are we betting?"

Sam winced his way through a pull from the bottle. "Since she's a beginner, we probably shouldn't go for cash."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Please, don't go easy on me."

The brother's shared a look, Sam shrugged and they both dug in their pockets.

**...**

An hour and several hands of Texas Hold 'Em later, Dawn was sitting indian-style in the recliner, a decent stack of singles next to her elbow and a huge grin on her face. The booze had been forgotten after she'd begun winning hand after hand, and the Winchester's were fuming, hunched over their cards.

After Dawn won yet another hand and collected the money from the middle of the table, Dean had had enough.

"How are you doing that!? No way you're a beginner, no friggen' way!"

Dawn just smiled innocently up at him and organized her money.

"Dammit, Sam, she's cheating! Playing all innocent and harmless and _bam_! She cleans us out!"

"I hardly say I cleaned you out-"

"And how is it different than what we do every-time we hustle pool?"

Dean's face went red, and he didn't have a legit answer, so he snatched the bottle of Jack from the table, took a long swig and plopped back down in his chair. Dawn leaned over, yanked the bottle from his hand and took a pull from the it without wincing. At Dean's indignant sound, Dawn just leveled a narrow look on him.

"_I _was the one who went and bought it."

"Which was stupid, not everyone out there has as pure intentions as we do."

Sam shook his head at the both of them and slid from the room and into the bathroom.

Dawn snorted. "You're about as pure as a two dollar whore, and I _told _you that I could take care of myself."

Dean stole the bottle back, and said on a swallow, "Yeah, believe that when I see it." He passed the bottle back.

"'Could take you on."

The hunter gave her a disbelieving look, took another swig and Dawn couldn't help noticing the way the muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed the harsh liquid. Dean set the Jack down with a _thunk _and pushed himself up from his chair. Neither of them had had enough whiskey to be of any affect; Dean had been drinking the stuff with his old man since he'd been old enough. Dawn had her first drink with Spike when she'd been seventeen, shortly after she'd found out that he was still alive. Or, Alive _again_. Or, _Dead_ again. She wasn't big with semantics. She's shared bottles with the ensouled vampire enough to have built a nice constitution for the stuff.

He planted his hands on the faux wood table top, leaned toward Dawn, and grinned. "Show me what you've got, then."

Dawn raised a thin eyebrow, thought it over for a moment, shrugged and then stood from the table. Dean watched her for a moment, body sleek and lithe like a cat, as she shook her limbs and stretched her muscles.

Dean shook his head, and approached from behind, intending to go easy on the poor girl who really didn't know what she was getting into. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that he hunted demons and monsters, that he had been able to take down a fully grown man when he was twelve.

However, what Dean didn't know was that Dawn's big sister was the Chosen One, the Vampire Slayer, and Dawn's best friend was a two hundred year old undead Master Vampire, and they'd both taught her a thing or two about sparring. Dawn? Well, she'd been fighting and dusting vamps since she'd turned fifteen.

Dean came up behind her, aiming for the easy take down. Almost faster than his eyes could follow, Dawn grabbed him and with barely a grunt of exertion flipped him over her shoulder and into the table. The legs give out from under it, and Dean brings the table crashing down to the ground. Before he really knows what's happening, Dawn is on him, forearm across his throat, pinning his arms with her stronger-than-they-looked legs.

"You were saying?"

Dean scowled; the little girl was _amused_. Her full lips twitched, and he could see it dancing in her blue eyes.

"Impressive, but it's different when you're in the thick of it. When the pressure's on and it's a matter of kicking ass or dying."

All amusement fell from her face. "Trust me," Dawn said, squeezing him with those mile-long legs. "I've _been_ in the _thick _of it."

…

Dawn came around slowly the next morning. The dull throb behind her eyes echoed into a massive pounding inside her skull, and she lay there, really unsure of where she was for a few moments. Everything from the night before came back as she registered the aching muscles in her... everywhere, the stubble-burn on her neck and chest, and just the general... stickiness. And the fact that she was completely naked and, yeah- Dawn raised her head slightly, looked around- sandwiched by the Winchester brothers.

Dean was curled into her, arm heavy and warm across her middle and Sam was on his stomach, sprawled out, taking up most of the room in the queen sized bed. He faced away from her, and his hair fluttered with every breath. All in all, there was a lot of shapely, tanned, naked skin on display, and Dawn didn't really have to ask herself the question _How did this happen_? The answer was pretty clear. She shifted minutely, rubbing her sticky thighs together and both Dean and Sam jack-knifed up. Dean's hand darted under his pillow, and Sam flailed about wildly, shouting Latin until he fell of the bed in a heap.

Heavy silence reigns for a moment, and Dawn is frozen, naked next to a guy who suddenly has a knife in his hand. Dean attempts to shove it back under his pillow, but she's already seen it and she edges away from him slowly.

"_Hell_," Dean works his mouth slowly, scraping his teeth along his sticky-white tongue, not noticing Dawn's reaction to the knife. He's assessed and discarded the possible danger, registering that Dawn isn't a threat to his and Sam's lives. Though after what happened last night, he thinks he maybe needs to rethink that. _Last night... _Dean goes still for a split second and then sends a wild look across the bed, taking in Sam and Dawn's naked bodies. "What the- oh _fucking hell_."

Sam and Dawn watched Dean bolt out of bed and into the bathroom, trying to slam the door and forgetting it was broken. It just fell flat into the room and Dean jumped into the shower, plastic curtain zinging shut behind him.

"Uh," Sam levered himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. "Don't take that personally. Dean takes a lot of showers." His voice was kind of blank, and Dawn had a feeling that he was attempting to come to terms with the events of last night as well.

Dawn figured that it was probably time to take her leave.

Slowly, she eased off the bed, and looked around blankly for clothes. They'd made a mess of the room. The table was broken, the mattress of the second bed was pushed off the box spring; lamps were knocked over, the headboard of the still intact bed was pulled loose. Dawn located her jeans and eased uncomfortably into them. She felt Sam's eyes on her, and turned toward him, still topless.

"You wouldn't happen to know..."

Sam looked around briefly before reaching down and picking the tattered remains of her shirt off the floor. It dangles from his large finger, and a shiver runs over Dawn as she looks at his hand and remembers the things that they could _do_-

A ridiculous blush bloomed across her face, and Dawn turned away, snatching a random t-shirt off the floor. It was Dean's, washed out and soft, and she tugged it on, crossing her arms over her middle.

"So, um, I'm gonna..." she edged toward the door, not looking at Sam whose stare she could feel _burning _into her. "Uh, so, yeah. Thanks?" Dawn could have slammed her head against the door- she could honestly be so _stupid _sometimes. She didn't take the time, though, and quickly slipped from the room.

She was already in her own before she realized that she'd forgotten her shoes.

…

The knock on Dawn's door was so insistent, loud, that Sam and Dean were halfway to their door, weapons in hand, before they heard Dawn whip it open and greet whoever was on the other side. The walls were paper thin, and they could hear everything, from the closing of the thick-wood door, to the whisper of clothing as Dawn and her guest moved across the room next door.

"Alright, Dawn?" the voice was deep and accented and one they'd heard before. Dawn's friend "Spike".

Dean thought that he could actually _hear _Dawn rolling her eyes. "Of course I am. Your concern is touching."

A deep grunt, followed by, "I promised Bu- your sister that I wouldn't let you get hurt. I'm no liar."

"I know." Dawn's voice was quiet, and Dean couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her that would make this guy so paranoid. His jaw clenched at the thought of something, anything, hurting her. It was nothing, really, he just hated hearing about innocent civilians getting caught in the crossfire- that was all.

"So, what happened to the two letches you hitched with? They hang around? I can smell letch from a mile away, and this room reeks of it."

"Really, Spike? It's a hotel room, do you have any idea how many _letches _must pass through here? Honestly, I was afraid to even touch the bed. I bunked in the chair."

"Yeah, like they'd leave that unsullied. Should have seen some of the places I've-"

"Gah! No! Stop talking before I hurl!"

"Please, Bit. You know you've got it bad for me."

Dean's hand tightened dangerously around his beer bottle, and Sam sent him a funny look that he pretended not to notice.

"Pff, yeah. When I was fifteen you old pervert."

The banter died down, and all Sam and Dean could hear was them moving around the room, and then the rasp of a zipper sliding shut.

"Ready?" Spike asked.

"Yeah, I need to get back to L.A. and face the music. I think I'll steal Giles's glasses if he gives me that told-you-so look that he's perfected over the years."

The door was pulled open.

"No need. Swiped Tall, Dark and Annoying's credit card before I left and got you a plane ticket online."

Dawn laughed, the door swung shut, and she was gone.

…

When Sam and Dean arrived at Bobby's place, Sam immediately went to the den to crash on the couch, and Dean went looking for Bobby. He found him in a flowered apron, vacuum in hand, sweeping out the spare bedroom he normally used for storage. A bed had been moved in with sheets, an old quilt and pillows piled on the end, and the boxes and books and boxes of books were nowhere to be seen.

Dean dropped his duffle in the hallway, leaned against the open doorframe. "Aww, you didn't have to tidy up for us, Bobby."

"Shut up. It ain't for you."

"Who's it for then?"

"I'm puttin' up a girl for a friend of mine. She's been havin' a hard time, and he thinks it'll be good for her to get some time away."

"So he's sending her to Club Bobby? Good luck there."

"Yeah yeah, you two just best be on your best behavior when she gets here later today. Flyin' in from L.A."

Dean shifted a bit, thoughts turning toward Dawn. Like they wouldn't stop doing since she'd left the Sunshine with that friend of hers. "L.A., huh?"

"That's what I said, now don't get comfortable. You're goin' to the airport to fetch her."

"Oh c'mon, Bobby. I just came in off the road!"

"Quit your whining, and get a move on. Her plane comes in at three."

Dean rubbed at his tired eyes, and knew he'd get nowhere so he figured he may as well just do it and get it over with.

"Fine. What's her name so I'm not grabbing every random girl who walks off the plane."

"Dawn Summers, and she's like a daughter to a very valuable friend of mine, so be nice."

Dean stopped breathing for a few seconds, eyes wide and staring at Bobby. "What did you just say?"

"_Dawn. Summers. _You get hit on the head on that last job?"

He shook his head, a short and jerky move. "No, uh... no. I'll just... head out then."

"And be nice!" Bobby shouted again as Dean retreated from the spare bedroom.

…

Spike had pretty much taken Dawn directly to LAX as soon as they'd gotten back to L.A., and the next thing she knew, she was getting off the plane at some tiny airport in South Dakota.

"Oh my god, are you stalking me?" she asked Dean as soon as she spotted him standing by the luggage carousel.

He snorted. "Not likely. That's more Sam's area."

Dawn arched a brow at him, nearly remarking on how Sam seemed to be proficient in _many _areas, but she held it in. Barely.

They gathered her luggage, and when they got to the parking lot, Dawn climbed into the passenger's seat of the Impala. She reached for the bottle of water that was sitting between the two seats, but Dean jerked it away from her.

"I don't think so," he said, twisting the top off with a smirk. "You've probably still got Sam-dick breath." He tipped the bottle back, taking a long drink.

Dawn narrowed her eyes, but her own smirk stole over her face. "If I still do, then so do you."

When Dean spit water all over the windshield, Dawn laughed until she nearly peed.

**End**


End file.
